stories by modern american authors-第13部分

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reserve　him　for　her　own　trap。　　So　it　happened　that；　when　Virginia

St。　Clair　assisted　Mrs。　Miriam　Steuvisant　at　her　midwinter

reception；　this　same　Samuel　Walcott　fell　deeply　and　hopelessly　and

utterly　in　love；　and　it　was　so　apparent　to　the　beaten　generals

present；　that　Mrs。　Miriam　Steuvisant　applauded　herself；　so　to

speak；　with　encore　after　encore。　　It　was　good　to　see　this

courteous；　silent　man　literally　at　the　feet　of　the　young　debutante。

He　was　there　of　right。　　Even　the　mothers　of　marriageable　daughters

admitted　that。　　The　young　girl　was　brown…haired；　brown…eyed；　and

tall　enough；　said　the　experts；　and　of　the　blue　blood　royal；　with

all　the　grace；　courtesy；　and　inbred　genius　of　such　princely

heritage。



Perhaps　it　was　objected　by　the　censors　of　the　Smart　Set　that　Miss

St。　Clair's　frankness　and　honesty　were　a　trifle　old…fashioned；　and

that　she　was　a　shadowy　bit　of　a　Puritan；　and　perhaps　it　was　of

these　same　qualities　that　Samuel　Walcott　received　his　hurt。　　At　any

rate　the　hurt　was　there　and　deep；　and　the　new　actor　stepped　up　into

the　old　time…worn；　semi…tragic　drama；　and　began　his　role　with　a

tireless；　utter　sincerity　that　was　deadly　dangerous　if　he　lost。





II





Perhaps　a　week　after　the　conversation　between　St。　Clair　and

Walcott；　Randolph　Mason　stood　in　the　private　waiting…room　of　the

club　with　his　hands　behind　his　back。



He　was　a　man　apparently　in　the　middle　forties；　tall　and　reasonably

broad　across　the　shoulders；　muscular　without　being　either　stout　or

lean。　　His　hair　was　thin　and　of　a　brown　color；　with　erratic　streaks

of　gray。　　His　forehead　was　broad　and　high　and　of　a　faint　reddish

color。　　His　eyes　were　restless　inky　black；　and　not　over…large。　　The

nose　was　big　and　muscular　and　bowed。　　The　eyebrows　were　black　and

heavy；　almost　bushy。　　There　were　heavy　furrows；　running　from　the

nose　downward　and　outward　to　the　corners　of　the　mouth。　　The　mouth

was　straight　and　the　jaw　was　heavy；　and　square。



Looking　at　the　face　of　Randolph　Mason　from　above；　the　expression　in

repose　was　crafty　and　cynical；　viewed　from　below　upward；　it　was

savage　and　vindictive；　almost　brutal；　while　from　the　front；　if

looked　squarely　in　the　face；　the　stranger　was　fascinated　by　the

animation　of　the　man　and　at　once　concluded　that　his　expression　was

fearless　and　sneering。　　He　was　evidently　of　Southern　extraction　and

a　man　of　unusual　power。



A　fire　smoldered　on　the　hearth。　　It　was　a　crisp　evening　in　the

early　fall；　and　with　that　far…off　touch　of　melancholy　which　ever

heralds　the　coming　winter；　even　in　the　midst　of　a　city。　　The　man's

face　looked　tired　and　ugly。　　His　long　white　hands　were　clasped

tight　together。　　His　entire　figure　and　face　wore　every　mark　of

weakness　and　physical　exhaustion；　but　his　eyes　contradicted。　　They

were　red　and　restless。



In　the　private　dining…room　the　dinner　party　was　in　the　best　of

spirits。　　Samuel　Walcott　was　happy。　　Across　the　table　from　him　was

Miss　Virginia　St。　Clair；　radiant；　a　tinge　of　color　in　her　cheeks。

On　either　side；　Mrs。　Miriam　Steuvisant　and　Marshall　St。　Clair　were

brilliant　and　lighthearted。　　Walcott　looked　at　the　young　girl　and

the　measure　of　his　worship　was　full。　　He　wondered　for　the

thousandth　time　how　she　could　possibly　love　him　and　by　what　earthly

miracle　she　had　come　to　accept　him；　and　how　it　would　be　always　to

have　her　across　the　table　from　him；　his　own　table　in　his　own　house。



They　were　about　to　rise　from　the　table　when　one　of　the　waiters

entered　the　room　and　handed　Walcott　an　envelope。　　He　thrust　it

quickly　into　his　pocket。　　In　the　confusion　of　rising　the　others　did

not　notice　him；　but　his　face　was　ash　white　and　his　hands　trembled

violently　as　he　placed　the　wraps　around　the　bewitching　shoulders　of

Miss　St。　Clair。



〃Marshall；〃　he　said；　and　despite　the　powerful　effort　his　voice　was

hollow；　〃you　will　see　the　ladies　safely　cared　for；　I　am　called　to

attend　a　grave　matter。〃



〃All　right；　Walcott；〃　answered　the　young　man；　with　cheery　good

nature；　〃you　are　too　serious；　old　man；　trot　along。〃



〃The　poor　dear；〃　murmured　Mrs。　Steuvisant；　after　Walcott　had　helped

them　to　the　carriage　and　turned　to　go　up　the　steps　of　the　club；

〃The　poor　dear　is　hard　hit；　and　men　are　such　funny　creatures　when

they　are　hard　hit。〃



Samuel　Walcott；　as　his　fate　would；　went　direct　to　the　private

writing…room　and　opened　the　door。　　The　lights　were　not　turned　on

and　in　the　dark　he　did　not　see　Mason　motionless　by　the　mantel…

shelf。　　He　went　quickly　across　the　room　to　the　writing…table；

turned　on　one　of　the　lights；　and；　taking　the　envelope　from　his

pocket；　tore　it　open。　　Then　he　bent　down　by　the　light　to　read　the

contents。　　As　his　eyes　ran　over　the　paper；　his　jaw　fell。　　The　skin

drew　away　from　his　cheekbones　and　his　face　seemed　literally　to　sink

in。　　His　knees　gave　way　under　him　and　he　would　have　gone　down　in　a

heap　had　it　not　been　for　Mason's　long　arms　that　closed　around　him

and　held　him　up。　　The　human　economy　is　ever　mysterious。　　The　moment

the　new　danger　threatened；　the　latent　power　of　the　man　as　an

animal；　hidden　away　in　the　centers　of　intelligence；　asserted

itself。　　His　hand　clutched　the　paper　and；　with　a　half　slide；　he

turned　in　Mason's　arms。　　For　a　moment　he　stared　up　at　the　ugly　man

whose　thin　arms　felt　like　wire　ropes。



〃You　are　under　the　dead…fall；　aye；〃　said　Mason。　　〃The　cunning　of　my

enemy　is　sublime。〃



〃Your　enemy？〃　gasped　Walcott。　　〃When　did　you　come　into　it？　　How　in

God's　name　did　you　know　it？　　How　your　enemy？〃



Mason　looked　down　at　the　wide　bulging　eyes　of　the　man。



〃Who　should　know　better　than　I？〃　he　said。　　〃Haven't　I　broken

through　all　the　traps　and　plots　that　she　could　set？〃



〃She？　　She　trap　you？〃　　The　man's　voice　was　full　of　horror。



〃The　old　schemer；〃　muttered　Mason。　　〃The　cowardly　old　schemer；　to

strike　in　the　back；　but　we　can　beat　her。　　She　did　not　count　on　my

helping　youI；　who　know　her　so　well。〃



Mason's　face　was　red；　and　his　eyes　burned。　　In　the　midst　of　it　all

he　dropped　his　hands　and　went　over　to　the　fire。　　Samuel　Walcott

arose；　panting；　and　stood　looking　at　Mason；　with　his　hands　behind

him　on　the　table。　　The　naturally　strong　nature　and　the　rigid　school

in　which　the　man　had　been　trained　presently　began　to　tell。　　His

composure　in　part　returned　and　he　thought　rapidly。　　What　did　this

strange　man　know？　　Was　he　simply　making　shrewd　guesses；　or　had　he

some　mysterious　knowledge　of　this　matter？　　Walcott　could　not　know

that　Mason　meant　only　Fate；　that　he　believed　her　to　be　his　great

enemy。　　Walcott　had　never　before　doubted　his　own　ability　to　meet

any　emergency。　　This　mighty　jerk　had　carried　him　off　his　feet。　　He

was　unstrung　and　panic…stricken。　　At　any　rate　this　man　had　promised

help。　　He　would　take　it。　　He　put　the　paper　and　envelope　carefully

into　his　pocket；　smoothed　out　his　rumpled　coat；　and　going　over　to

Mason　touched　him　on　the　shoulder。



〃Come；〃　he　said；　〃if　you　are　to　help　me　we　must　go。〃



The　man　turned　and　followed　him　without　a　word。　　In　the　hall　Mason

put　on　his　hat　and　overcoat；　and　the　two　went　out　into　the　street。

Walcott　hailed　a　cab；　and　the　two　were　driven　to　his　house　on　the

avenue。　　Walcott　took　out　his　latchkey；　opened　the　door；　and　led

the　way　into　the　library。　　He　turned　on　the　light　and　motioned

Mason　to　seat　himself　at　the　table。　　Then　he　went　into　another　room

and　presently　returned　with　a　bundle　of　papers　and　a　decanter　of

brandy。　　He　poured　out　a　glass　of　the　liquor　and　offered　it　to

Mason。　　The　man　shook　his　head。　　Walcott　poured　the　contents　of　the

glass　down　his　own　throat。　　Then　he　set　the　decanter　down　and　drew

up　a　chair　on　the　side　of　the　table　opposite　Mason。



〃Sir；〃　said　Walcott；　in　a　voice　deliberate；　indeed；　but　as　hollow

as　a　sepulcher；　〃I　am　done　for。　　God　has　finally　gathered　up　the

ends　of　the　net；　and　it　is　knotted　tight。〃



〃Am　I　not　here　to　help　you？〃　said　Mason；　turning　savagely。　　〃I　can

beat　Fate。　　Give　me　the　details　of　her　trap。〃



He　bent　forward　and　rested　his　arms　on　the　table。　　His　streaked

gray　hair　was　rumpled　and　on　end；　and　his　face　was　ugly。　　For　a

moment　Walcott　did　not　answer。　　He　moved　a　little　into　the　shadow；

then　he　spread　the　bundle　of　old　yellow　papers　out　before　him。



〃To　begin　with；〃　he　said；　〃I　am　a　living　lie；　a　gilded　crime…made

sham；　every　bit　of　me。　　There　is　not　an　honest　piece　anywhere。　　It

is　all　lie。　　I　am　a　liar　and　a　thief　before　men。　　The　property

which　I　possess　is　not　mine；　but　stolen　from　a　dead　man。　　The　very

name　which　I　bear　is　not　my　own；　but　is　the　bastard　child　of　a

crime。　　I　am　more　than　all　thatI　am　a　murderer；　a　murderer　before

the　law；　a　murderer　before　God；　and　worse　than　a　murderer　before

the　pure　woman　whom　I　love　more　than　anything　that　God　could　make。〃



He　paused　for　a　moment　and　wiped　the　perspiration　from　his　face。



〃Sir；〃　said　Mason；　〃this　is　all　drivel；　infantile　drivel。　　What　you

are　is　of　no　importance。　　How　to　get　out　is　the　problem；　how　to　get

out。〃



Samuel　Walcott　leaned　forward；　poured　out　a　glass　of　brandy　and

swallowed　it。



〃Well；〃　he　said；　speaking　slowly；　〃my　right　name　is　Richard　Warren。

In　the　spring　of　1879　I　came　to　New　York　and　fell　in　with　the　real

Samuel　Walcott；　a　young　man　with　a　little　money　and　some　property

which　his　grandfather　had　left　him。　　We　became　friends；　and

concluded　to　go　to　the　far　west　together。　　Accordingly　we　scraped

together　what　money　we　could　lay　our　hands　on；　and　landed　in　the

gold…mining　regions　of　California。　　We　were　young　and

inexperienced；　and　our　money　went　rapidly。　　One　April　morning　we

drifted　into　a　little　shack　camp；　away　up　in　the　Sierra　Nevadas；

called　Hell's　Elbow。　　Here　we　struggled　and　starved　for　perhaps　a

year。　　Finally；　in　utter　desperation；　Walcott　married　the　daughter

of　a　Mexican　gambler；　who　ran　an　eating　house　and　a　poker　joint。

With　them　we　lived　from　hand　to　mouth　in　a　wild　God…forsaken　way

for　several　years。　　After　a　time　the　woman　be